


The Space Between Us

by A_Whelmed_Marvel



Category: Naruto
Genre: After care, Angst, Canon Related, Canon Universe, Confused Kakashi, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hatake Kakashi Is Trying, Hatake Kakashi Needs a Hug, Implied Anxiety, Light Angst, M/M, just lots of caring, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28191558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Whelmed_Marvel/pseuds/A_Whelmed_Marvel
Summary: He wasn’t completely sure as to how or when one pony-tailed Chunin became so intertwined in his life but he, right before Kakashi’s eyes, slipped his fingers through his chest and squeezed his poor innocent heart. Believe Kakashi, he was there, standing as an innocent bystander, completely helpless as Iruka did so.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Umino Iruka, Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	The Space Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Naruto fandom! How y'all doing? This is just a cute moment between these two very in love human beings, they just need a little bit of help is all. To be honest I wasn't completely sure what it was when I wrote it, I just let my mind wander and do what it does. I find Kakashi's character incredibly interesting and could write paragraphs about him and his trauma and different ways he deals with it and honestly if I could get a job just doing that for years I would, mans has so many layers to him we should be calling him Shrek, But anyways, on to this little fic. I hope you enjoy. This is the first fic I'v written in uhh over two years so I might be a bit rusty. I do think the pacing is off in some areas but I've been editing for so long and I really just wanna get it out there.

Iruka has become oddly accustomed to the routine. Not only that, but, their sporadic meetings have become a source of normalcy, and almost comfort for the Chunin. Iruka was no longer startled when his fingers twitched as his body sensed a familiar flicker of almost-fully-drained chakra, his chakra, as he softly landed on his window sill. His body reacted almost as though it was on autopilot, his chakra reacting to the Jonin’s before his brain could comprehend it, his eyes drifting and landing on the outline of the man’s shadow that was reflected onto the wall behind his kitchen table. He made it a habit to sit on the chair next to the table with his back faced to the window. He didn’t want the other man to know that he was tensely staying up waiting for him, fingers anxiously drumming on the faux wood beneath them, but he was, he always was no matter what he had to do the next day. That day was no different. 

Iruke sat in the chair, his grip on the mug of tea that grew cold two hours ago so tight that he knew it would, without a doubt, shatter the minute he squeezed a bit tighter. Iruka’s body felt as though ants were hurriedly crawling up and down his skin and using his hairs as tiny pedestals. His teeth were half the size they were at the beginning of the day due to how fiercely they were grinded together. Iruka couldn’t help himself. The worry in his body had a mind of its own and at this point, the sensei had stopped trying to tame it, stopped trying to tighten his grip on the ferocious animal that could never be controlled, not when it was fighting for him, especially for him, but he couldn’t tell him that could he? Iruka’s eyes drifted to the clock that rested on the wall in front of him, the sound of the ticking that it emitted rang in the teacher’s ear like church bells, loud and insanely alarming. He zeroed in on the date that was displayed in the empty space in the middle of the clock, December 8th, it read. According to several documents that Iruka made sure to check and double check on his mission desk shift earlier this night, he was supposed to cross the village gate today, he was supposed to be surrounded by the safety of guarded walls today, he was supposed to rudely, but expectedly, break through Iruka’s carefully-crafted wards today. Yet, there was still no trace of him. The chunin even subtly asked around about him on his night stroll back home even though he knew that no one would have heard anything, civilian or nin for that matter. 

Iruka’s felt him before he saw anything else besides the deep darkness of his eyelids which were shut due to the exhaustion that was weighing heavily on his shoulders from a long work day and the lack of sleep, it was four am after all. 

“You stayed up,” the other man stated rather than asked. Iruka let out a breath he was not completely aware he was holding as soon as his voice sliced through the thick anxiety-filled air. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” the teacher replied. Short and to the point. It wasn’t a complete lie, Iruka couldn’t find any kind of peace in his bed knowing that the other man was supposed to be returning today. He tried in the past, but failed time and time again, his brain refusing to turn off with thoughts of the other not ever returning through his window and how this time may just be it. But, it wasn’t the complete truth either because Iruka knew since he peeled his eyes open that morning aware of the fact that sleep was most definitely not an option for him that night. He was surprised that the other man even thought to ask him such a ridiculous question. They’ve been through this before. They both had the routine memorized. The Chunin lightly scoffed, letting a puff of air pass through his nose and the right side of his lips rose in a light smile. 

His eyes stayed shut, the remaining traces of apprehension that had not yet left his veins at the first sound of the man’s muffled voice making it difficult to turn around and face him, seeing just exactly what it was he would be working with that day. 

“Rough day?” 

Iruke shrugged, “Just like any other.” Iruka couldn’t see him, but he could somehow tell that the other gave a short, curt nod in answer, unable to find the power to move his tongue and shape words with his lips. Iruka knew exactly how the hours after a mission worked. 

The chair made a screeching noise as it was dragged across the floor. When did he even walk to the table? The man sat down and the chair creaked underneath a weight it's never really felt before due to lack of use and rested his palms face down on the table. The man took a long deep breath, slouched, and finally, for the first time in two months, released a tight breath. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he should know better, know that a shinobi should never be less than completely alert at all times. He knew, but the man could barely feel the chakra within him anymore and fatigue had his entire body in a taut grip, he could not for the life of him comprehend how he had not instantly collapsed as soon as he crossed through the village gate, but he promised that he would visit as soon as he completed his mission. 

Once Iruka felt the other’s warmth, he peeled his eyes open and was met with gloved hands caked with dry blood and dirt and soot that worked its way underneath short fingernails. The sensei’s eyes slowly drifted up meticulously examining the expanse of exposed skin to check for injuries. As the man’s eyes skimmed across the other’s displayed forearms, he found several gashes, a majority of them seemed to be scarred over indicating that they were old, there was one though that was slowly oozing thick red blood. Iruka’s jaw tensed at the sight, and before he could, he withheld his tongue from spitting colorful curses as the man before him for not promptly making his way to the hospital before stopping by knowing that it would not be helpful at the moment. There was another fresh new cut on the side of his face that wasn’t covered by his hitai-ate that looked to still be closing up fully along with a black-blue bruise that seemed to be on his cheek though it wasn’t fully visible. “Rough day?” Iruka asked back, finally glancing into the Jonin’s eyes. 

The other man smirked and met the teacher's gaze. He shrugged lightly. “Just like any other.”

Iruka smiled slightly at the reply. He let his body relax at the sight of the somewhat undamaged Jonin. The cup he once gripped for dear life and sanity now lay rested to the side, forgotten. Iruka pushed it farther away from him. He coughed to clear his throat, using the two seconds to figure out what to say next. He needed to be careful, a desperate desire and yearn to talk about the mission, about what exactly left the man in this current state, bruised and battered, exposed eye glazed over, the other haphazardly twitching behind cloth possibly from overuse unfurled and clutched at the lining of Iruka’s stomach but Iruka knew better. His shifts at the mission desk has allowed Iruka to converse with many Jonin right after a job, he was extremely familiar with their confused state of mind, their inability to tell reality from fiction, past from present; he didn’t want to trigger any memories that could leave the man paralyzed and caught in between waves of hideously cumbersome flashbacks that would surely drag him all the way under. He decides to go with, “You should’ve gone to the hospital to get looked at, you’re most definitely chakra-exhausted”. Iruka’s eye flicked up to the other man’s covered sharingan, counting the seconds between each twitch. He settled for seven seconds between each twitch; Kakashi was exhausted. 

The other man’s eyes curl into their signature crescent shape, “Maa, sensei, I promised I would stop here soon as I got back didn’t I? Plus, we both know that I am not very fond of hospital walls, the horrid color they use to paint them recently doesn’t do anything for my complexion, I mean daisy white really? I could've chosen a better color blindfolded. Also, the staff there are not particularly fond of me, are they now?”

Iruka can practically hear the extremely exaggerated pout forming underneath the man’s mask as he came up with more truly unbelievable excuses. The long-haired man wished he could grab it hastily with his fingers and drag the man to seek proper aid. But, instead, he sighed and dropped his head into his hand. 

“What is it, Sensei? Not happy to see me?” Iruka lifted his head, his eyes stared at the man with slight warmth and concern. The teacher knows that despite the other man’s seemingly lighthearted attitude and playful banter, he was immensely struggling to grip onto reality. The other man’s hands, which remained seated palm down on the table, seemed glued there, his fingers curling at an attempt to hold onto the wood as though the man would find the sturdy branches of the real world there. He was trying to ground himself, trying to keep the anxiety that was boiling within him at bay. 

Iruka reached out and softly placed his hand atop the other man’s. He felt how ice cold they were. Well that explained why he occasionally shivered, he thought to himself. The warmth from Iruka’s palms interrupted the other man’s train of thought and he pried his eyes open. No other word passed his mouth but, oh. 

Iruka curled his own fingers between the spaces of the other man’s hand. He squeezed tightly knowing that it would serve as an anchor to aid the man in his grounding, knowing that he could relieve some of the tension and hold him here, here with him. Iruka pushed his own chair back, dragging their joined arms with him. “Come, Kakashi Sensei, let me try and heal as much as possible. I won’t be able to do much, but what I cannot heal I will try my best to compensate with the first aid kit in my bathroom.” 

Kakashi stares intensely at their intertwined hands. “You always say that, Sensei, and yet, you always manage to keep me alive.” Kakashi complied and let himself be dragged to the bathroom by a pony-tailed man that he found himself trusting more and more each time he broke in through his wards. 

____________________

Kakashi knew that as soon as he passed the gates of Konohagakure the first stop should’ve been the hospital or the hokage’s office. He was aware that he probably needed to make sure he didn’t cross over to another plane of existence, or nonexistence, in a few short hours. He was also vividly aware of the sadistic methods that the fifth Hokage used against him to ensure that he indeed remained in the physical world. A shiver made its way down the silver-haired man as he recalled the last time he attempted to limp into the Hokage tower after a particularly messy mission. 

His ears still rang reminiscing about that particular memory. 

Despite knowing all the previously mentioned, he just absolutely, wholeheartedly, completely, and from the deepest, darkest part of his heart despised the hospital. Staring at the ridges and cracks in the paint that were sprinkled along hospital walls caused an avalanche of ants to crawl along the hairs on his skin, and for a ball of anxiety to conjure in his intestines. And no matter how often he reminded himself that the hospital was heavily guarded with the best possible kind of security there was at the time, Kakashi could not extinguish the flames that made camp in his head. The flames were vicious and showed absolutely no mercy and no matter what Kakashi did to try and extinguish the flames, they only seemed to climb higher and higher as he laid on the hospital bed, pulling him from reality, cutting off his oxygen and filling his lungs with charcoal smoke instead. The flames only declared one thing and one thing only, that he was not safe. He was never safe, not while he was laying so helplessly and carelessly on the bed “recuperating”. Kakashi hated the flames more than anything else, so he’d much rather limp around town clutching down on a few broken ribs as though he could snap the cracked bits back together than spend a couple days in the hospital. 

That was how Kakashi used to deal with his injuries. Stroll around town and try as hard as possible to ignore them. 

He wasn’t completely sure as to how or when one pony-tailed Chunin became so intertwined in his life but he, right before Kakashi’s eyes, slipped his fingers through his chest and squeezed his poor innocent heart. Believe Kakashi, he was there, standing as an innocent bystander, completely helpless as Iruka did so. 

Just as helpless as he was now, sitting tensely, back straight and as rigid as a ruler, on the edge of Iruka’s pristine bathtub, a victim to the brown-haired man’s tender care. 

Kakashi could barely feel the coarseness of the cotton square as it ran over his skin collecting droplets of blood oozing from one cut or another. He could hardly register the sting as alcohol met injuries. He was too busy hyper fixating on the fact that Iruka was tucked in the open space between his two legs and his hands were steadily skimming all over his exposed skin. His fingers were rough from years of teaching children how to properly handle shinobi weapons, yet the underlying softness that lay between the coarse spots revealed the truth that Iruka has not seen the blood-caked dirt of the battlefield, not like Kakashi has anyways. Kakashi, unlike other ignorant Jonin could never think the Chunin sensei was weak for leaving war behind, quite the opposite actually, Kakashi idolized the man for knowing what he wanted and striving for it. He even guiltily took advantage of it and stole solace he didn’t believe he deserved in hands that haven’t been dipped in years-worth of blood, hands that haven’t stripped life right from people’s delicate chests. He couldn’t help it, once he felt how the other man could gently yet surely put him back together after he came back from a mission in more pieces than he could count, he couldn’t quit. 

Iruka’s face was slightly squinched in determination and focus. Kakashi’s heart jumped at the sheer fondness that was horrifyingly evident in the man’s pinched nose in front of him. He was determined to fix all of Kakashi’s cracks. The word love viciously smacked around at the walls of his brain refusing to leave the Jonin alone but Kakashi would not grip it and place it as the primary label for what he felt for the sensei in front of him. Not yet at least. 

____________________

Iruka gaze flew upwards as the shinobi in front of him hissed as he swiped at a particularly nasty cut. He placed his hand on Kakashi’s knee, and smiled warmly at him, making sure to convey emotions he could not yet begin to fathom let alone articulate. He felt the copy-nin’s tension melt cautiously yet surely as his body heat began to fuse with the others. Kakashi instantly met his gaze and Iruka knew without a shadow of doubt that he was the only thing the Kakashi was clinging onto in the moment. So, he shoved the medical materials to the side not finding it in himself to care that they were strewn all over the bathroom floor, and reached to skim the pads of his fingers on the exposed side of the silver-haired man’s face. 

“All done,” Iruka muttered through a breath. Kakashi remained silent for a beat. 

“Thank you,” he whispered in reply, his voice cracking slightly. 

Iruka squeezed his knee. “Would you like something to eat, Kakashi?” 

The sensei was aware that the shinobi could usually never stomach anything until a couple hours after he returned from a mission, until his thoughts settled and his mind didn’t feel like a murky slush, though he made sure to ask everyday just in case. Kakashi shook his head. Iruka nodded in understanding and rose from his position on the floor, not once taking his hand off the other’s face.

“Come on then, bath time.” 

Kakashi clenched his hands and alarm spread through his body like a tidal wave on a stormy evening. Iruka quickly sensed the man’s apprehension and knelt so they were eye level. Kakashi’s breath stopped in its tracks somewhere right before it could reach his lungs. Iruka placed his hands on the silver-haired man’s shoulders and squeezed firmly. “Don’t worry Kakashi, I’m not going to leave you. I’ll be right here, next to you.” Iruka hoped Kakashi could read between his words, that the true meaning was as clear as water in a spring. I could never leave you. I’ll be right beside you no matter what. Iruka knew that much. He did not know how or when exactly but the man before him had stolen his heart and grasped it firmly in his own hands. Not that he was complaining. 

Fear melted from Kakashi’s body and slid beneath the cracks in the linoleum floor. The seated man nodded and began to hastily reach for the zipper of his issued flak jacket. A red hue began to spread across his cheeks, embarrassed at how quickly he was worked about at the thought of Iruka leaving his side. Iruka rested his hand on the other man’s chest and felt the coldness of the zipper, preventing Kakashi from reaching it so he could unzip it himself. “Don’t worry about it Kakashi, I’ve got it.” 

I’ve got you. 

Kakashi let his arms fall limp to his sides. He released the breath he was not aware he was holding. 

“Good, good, that’s it, Kakashi that’s it, just let go,” Iruka murmured in praise as he felt a bit of the tension draining from the Jonin's shoulder. “Let it all go.” 

With a firm squeeze to the other’s shoulders, Iruka reached for the zipper. “I’m going to start undressing you now, okay?” Iruka asked. 

The other nodded once in understanding. 

“No, Kakashi, use your words, please,” Iruka urged. 

“Yes, okay,” Kakashi affirmed. 

It took a great many attempts and trudging through the dark abyss of trial and error for Iruka and Kakashi to figure out that a way to clear the ladder’s mind and calm him down was to hear his own voice, especially in response to Iruka. It set Iruka’s soul to rest as well, knowing that Kakashi benefited from his actions, his words, his own voice. 

“Alright.” 

Iruka pulled the zipper of the other man’s jacket down slowly, he made sure to push any intent within himself that would further confuse the man down to a place that it will not be detected before he moved on to pulling his shirt off. 

Soon Kakashi was standing naked in the middle of his bathroom floor. Iruka’s voice commented on his own actions the whole time, before he pulled off his pants and socks and underwear. They go through the process like machines, not missing a beat and Kakashi was pulled out of the quicksand that was his own mind each time a melodic voice rang out. His own responses assuring him that he was indeed part of the living world, and the firmness of Iruka’s hand gripping him tight and making sure he wouldn’t slip again. 

“Alright, just hang tight while I start the bath okay? It won’t be too long” 

“Alright.” 

Before long the bath was filled with steaming water and Kakashi was laying back in it. “Would you like to use the vanilla or lavender-scented soap today, Kakashi?” Iruka asked. 

“Lavender,” Kakashi answered. Iruka nodded and reached for the respective soap and rested it on the back of the tub. 

“Mask on or off today?” Iruka asked once more. 

Kakashi paused in careful consideration before answering. “Off,” came a firm reply. 

Iruka, not one to question Kakashi’s decision, crouched down to Kakashi’s level and pulled the mask above the shinobi’s head. The times that Kakashi felt safe enough to unmask himself were rare when they first started their unlabeled meetings, his mask carried his intensely protected vulnerability and he did not give that to just anyone, but it was slowly starting to become a regular phenomenon in the space between them. 

When Kakashi’s mask was stripped off, Iruka basked in the revelation of his vulnerability, at the sight of the mole that rested just beneath the corner of his mouth. He couldn’t stop his body from moving and placing his lips on it and feeling the smooth skin that was constantly hidden by the piece of cloth. Kakashi let out a stuttered breath at the barely there kiss. He felt a trail of tingles where lips met skin. Kakashi would never breathe a word of this to a single soul but the hidden part of his face was extremely sensitive due to the fact that he or anyone rarely touches it which is why almost his whole body shivers when Iruka skims his lips across his mole.  
Iruka met his gaze and smiled earnestly as the other man shook like a leaf beneath his touch. His reactions were ever so adorable to Iruka, they were like a drug that Iruka could not live without at this point. “Hi there,” he teases when his eyes meet the other. 

“H-Hi.” 

Iruka could tell that the other man’s previously glazed over eyes were beginning to slowly clear as the seconds passed by, he was almost all the way there. 

“Is it okay if I wash your hair Kakashi or would you like to do it yourself?” Iruka urged. Kakashi nodded. 

“I know it’s hard Kakashi, but you need to use your words,” Iruka insisted once again. 

Kakashi took a deep breath not finding it in himself to put on a strong front, “I want you to wash my hair please,” he replied. 

“Good that’s just perfect, Kakashi, thank you.” 

Blush creeped up Kakashi’s face but his body relaxed even further at the sensei’s praise. He was doing good for him. 

Iruka’s hands began massaging the other’s scalp making sure to get soap through each strand, especially the ones caked in dry blood. Kakashi let out a satisfied moan at the pressure of Iruka’s slender fingers on his aching scalp. He felt like wet clay in the hands of a master ceramist. He wondered if he sat here for long enough and let Iruka press and pull and shape him if he would be forged into something more beautiful than his state now, less broken, less dangerous, less lethal. Maybe Iruka could permanently fill the fractures in his mind just how he patched up his cuts and bruises. Maybe if he let himself have this fully. 

A feeling of warm cotton interrupted Kakashi’s train of thought. Kakashi glanced up to find the source of the distraction. Oh. Iruka was drying his hair with a towel. How long had he been in the bathtub? 

“Ready to climb out of there? Any longer and you’ll get all old and wrinkly,” Iruka teased. 

“Yeah just give me a minute please.” 

Iruka nodded and placed the towel on the wrack and turned to walk to the door to give the other man a moment of privacy though leaving him alone in this state didn’t sit well with him. He paused and gripped the side of the door, “I’ll be right outside if you need me, Kakashi. Don’t be too long.” He continued walking and quietly clasped the door shut behind him. 

____________________

Kakashi needed a moment for himself because as much as he enjoyed how he felt in Iruka’s presence this aching need for him terrified him. It was a foreign feeling that he thought he was unable to feel, and yet, here he was. Kakashi took a deep breath and ran his hands through the damp silver strands. He wanted this more than anything else in the world, wanted Iruka, yearned for his touch that brought him peace more than anything else. He wanted beyond this game they were playing though they both seemed very invested. But Kakashi did not know how to go about it, how to make sense of the emotions and thoughts flooding his mind left and right. They were like millions of flashes of light in his mind that prevented him from seeing the bigger much clearer picture. A vessel in his temple pulsed just at the thought of his conundrum of a brain. He shook his head violently to clear it. 

Kakashi, not being able to bear being without Iruka for much longer, quickly pushed himself out of the tub and stood for a few seconds letting water droplets slowly trickle down his sides for a few seconds before reaching for the white towel on the rack and wrapping it around his hips. He slowly began to make his way to the door that led him back to his safety.

As Kakashi pushed the door open he was met with the sight of Iruka holding a tray filled with homemade eggplant miso soup and a tall glass of water. Next to Iruka was a pair of cotton sweatpants, well worn in by the frazzled look of them. Kakashi felt a pang at his chest. 

Iruka, feeling the man’s anxiety and tension like an elephant in the room, urged him forward. “Please,” he whispered. Kakashi hesitantly took small steps forward until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He reached down for the pants, throwing modesty out the window, he let the towel drop instantly and pulled the pants on instantly. 

He carefully took a seat on the bed next to the sensei with the tray in his lap. Kakashi played with his fingers in his lap, pressing thumb to thumb a bead of sweat or water, he was unsure, slid down from his temple. He glanced back up at the other man and quickly back down at his hands. His nerves were getting the best of him. 

Iruka smiled softly at the sheer will of the man, how it warmed his heart that he was trying to push through the the darkness of his mind instead of allowing himself to feel and pacing himself back. The sensei pushed the tray into the silver haired lap, making sure to do so carefully as to not slosh around the soup to the point of spillage. “Kakashi,” he called out in order to get the other’s attention. Kakashi ears perked up at his name and glazed towards the source of the sound. Iruka reached to place the palm of his hand on Kakashi’s cheek letting his warmth seep into the shinobi’s. He would be here as long as he needed him.

“Okaeri.” 

Kakashi's face softened and the remaining tension in his body all slipped away at the word that Iruka had uttered. One simple word. He let a small smile form on his face. “Mm, tadaima.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So uhh what did you guys think? Make sure to let me know and if you have constructive criticism that would be appreciated, but please be nice, I am a fragile soul and will not hesitate to cry 0.0 Drop some comments! Leave some kudos if you liked! If you're reading this please know I love you so much and appreciate you making it this far. Have a great day/night!


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